[Translation] I'm Not An Immortal (我不成仙) by Shi Jing (时镜): Chapter 003 — The Mountain Hermit

 

To be honest, Jianchou’s words startled Fudao Shanren.

From the immortal sects of the Nineteen Continents to isolated mortal islands, he had seen all kinds of people who wished to seek immortality and the Dao.

Some coveted the heaven-shattering power of immortals and longed for strength.

Some were growing old and nearing death, unwilling to part with worldly desires, and thus sought eternal life.

Others pondered the cycles of Heaven’s Dao yet could not understand why the Dao operated as it did, eventually becoming trapped in endless contemplation and stepping onto the path of immortality…

Fudao Shanren had heard every kind of reason imaginable.

But something so simple and yet so strange—this was the first time.

Licking the last traces of meat from the chicken bone, Fudao Shanren looked rather reluctant to part with it as he asked Jianchou:

“What do you mean, ‘why’?”

Jianchou had already risen to her feet. Carefully lifting the hem of her cloth skirt, she stepped onto the slightly damp earth.

She climbed out of the coffin and stood before Fudao Shanren. Hearing his question, her expression dimmed.

Family shame should not be spread abroad.

Jianchou did not wish to speak of Xie Buchen.

But then again, what did it matter now?

The moment he thrust out that sword, all ties between them had already been severed.

“My husband likely went off to seek immortality and the Dao. I only wish to find him and ask him one thing—

Why did he kill me?”

“What?!”

Fudao Shanren nearly choked to death on a chicken bone lodged in his throat.

“Your husband killed you?”

“Yes.”

A trace of tears seemed to flash briefly in Jianchou’s bright eyes before drying away.

“Even Shanren finds it hard to believe?”

“…No…”

If an ordinary person heard such a thing, they would surely cry out in disbelief. Yet after his initial shock, Fudao Shanren instead shook his head.

He narrowed his eyes slightly while looking Jianchou up and down.

“I don’t know whether immortals truly exist, but there are indeed many who cultivate and seek the Dao. To pursue immortality and comprehend the truths of heaven and earth, one must extinguish worldly attachments and sever mortal ties. Thus there is a saying—

‘Sever worldly bonds.’”

Sever worldly bonds?

Jianchou vaguely sensed what Fudao Shanren was implying.

“You mean…”

“When a person has no attachments, abandons desire, and devotes themselves wholly to the Dao, only then may they achieve the Great Dao. Therefore, cultivators usually wait until their worldly ties are naturally severed before focusing entirely on cultivation. Most cultivators live far longer than mortals. By the time their mortal family and loved ones have all passed on, those ties naturally disappear.”

At this point, a strange brilliance seemed to appear upon Fudao Shanren’s face. For the first time, he resembled an immortal sage rather than a beggar.

He pointed at Jianchou.

“But there are extreme individuals—people too impatient to wait through decades of time. Such people may resort to extraordinary methods.

“You said your husband went to seek immortality and then killed you. He was likely one of those people.”

To seek the Dao by killing one’s wife?

How cold-blooded.

Jianchou almost laughed upon hearing it.

“And Heaven still permits such cruel and heartless people to become immortals?”

“No. Heaven and Earth are impartial; the Heavenly Dao is emotionless.”

Fudao Shanren lightly tapped the ground with his bamboo staff, both hands resting upon it as he looked at her with interest.

“It is like how I regard you now—you are merely some unrelated wild girl. Today, I saved you because fate brought us together; it was Heaven’s will. But if I had simply walked past today, there would have been no connection between us at all.

“To Heaven and Earth, cultivators are no different from you and me passing one another on the road.”

To Jianchou, such ideas were far too profound.

She could not understand them.

Just as before, she only wished to ask Xie Buchen one question:

Why?

Could the bond between husband and wife—companions through hardship and suffering—truly be so fragile before the promise of immortality?

A soft, bitter laugh escaped her.

Jianchou bowed deeply to Fudao Shanren.

“I know well that I should already have crossed into the Yellow Springs today. It was Shanren who dragged me back from the gates of death. Such life-saving kindness is equal to giving me a second life. Yet I truly have no way to repay you—”

“With your body?”

Fudao Shanren’s eyes lit up instantly. Leaning forward eagerly, he looked at Jianchou with anticipation.

The old beggar who had just spoken grandly of “Heavenly Dao and righteousness” now had the word lecherous written all over his face once again.

“…”

At once, every grateful and heartfelt word Jianchou had intended to say became lodged in her throat.

She had already sensed that this Fudao Shanren was hardly reliable, but she had never expected him to say something so shameless outright.

After hesitating for quite a while, she finally forced out an awkward smile.

“Shanren jests…”

So that meant rejection.

The light in Fudao Shanren’s eyes immediately dimmed. He sighed dramatically in disappointment.

“The world truly has changed. People’s hearts are no longer what they once were… Shanren here went through so much trouble to save you…”

Jianchou silently thought that yes, the world truly had changed.

People nowadays repaid kindness by demanding repayment—and even that kind of repayment?

Wasn’t it said that cultivators were supposed to sever emotions and desires?

Clearly, no one was going to answer Jianchou’s confusion.

Seeing that Jianchou still showed no reaction, Fudao Shanren awkwardly rubbed his nose. His old face could not quite maintain dignity, so he coughed and changed the subject.

“Uh… anyway, now that you’re fine, what do you plan to do next?”

What did she plan to do?

The first thing Jianchou thought of was still Xie Buchen.

The next was the little farmhouse courtyard they had lived in for only a few months.

Lowering her head, she smiled faintly.

“I want to go home and take a look.”

Home.

Could that still be called home?

Even Jianchou did not know what awaited her there.

She looked up toward the cliff above.

Fudao Shanren explained:

“I came from up there when I found you. There were bloodstains and flattened grass along the way. Whoever buried you probably came from that direction too.”

Whoever buried her?

Hearing this, Jianchou suddenly remembered something and turned toward the pit.

The damp wooden coffin still lay within it. Beneath it spread a glaring patch of dried blood. Nearby, a wooden plaque had toppled onto the ground.

Her gravestone.

Jianchou walked over, crouched down, and turned it over.

Though stained with dirt, she still recognized the handwriting instantly.

It was Xie Buchen’s.

The Grave of My Wife, Xie Jianchou.

Ha.

There could hardly be anything more ironic.

Xie Jianchou?

No.

She no longer bore the surname Xie, nor was she Xie Buchen’s wife anymore.

She had a given name but no family name.

No father. No mother.

Only a drifting duckweed rootless beneath heaven and earth.

“Killed you, yet still buried you… I wonder whether this fellow truly severed his worldly ties or not…”

Behind her came Fudao Shanren’s muffled voice, accompanied by loud smacking sounds.

Without turning around, Jianchou knew he had started eating chicken legs again.

She straightened up and gave the gravestone one final look before turning back to him.

Sure enough, he was chewing away happily.

Unable to stop herself, she finally asked:

“Shanren, where exactly do these chicken legs come from?”

“This?”

Fudao Shanren’s eyes rolled mischievously as he glanced at the drumstick in his hand.

“You want some too? I’m not giving you any!”

The moment he finished speaking, he opened his mouth wide and swallowed the entire chicken leg whole in one bite.

“Gulp.”

It slid straight into his stomach.

Fudao Shanren looked at Jianchou triumphantly.

At last, the corner of Jianchou’s mouth twitched.

“How have you not choked to death yet?”

“You!”

Fudao Shanren stared at her as though he had seen a ghost.

“What did you just say?”

Jianchou turned to look at the cliffside.

The yellow earth had been soaked by rain, staining the exposed black stone beneath. Several ancient trees rooted themselves within cracks in the rock, their trunks twisted and sturdy.

The cliff was not high. On the left side, a sloping path covered in weeds appeared passable.

As though she had said nothing offensive at all, Jianchou calmly walked toward the slope.

“Did I say anything?”

Fudao Shanren puffed up his eyes and hurried after her.

“You said, ‘How have you not choked to death yet?’ I’m your lifesaver! How can you say something like that to me?!”

“I never wanted your chicken leg.”

Jianchou had merely been curious earlier and tried to speak to him seriously. Yet somehow their conversations always drifted onto entirely different paths. At last, she had lost patience and spoken bluntly.

“I was only asking why you didn’t choke to death.”

“That tone is definitely wrong!”

Fudao Shanren grew even more indignant, stamping his feet.

“I possess cultivation that reaches the heavens! How could I possibly choke on some tiny chicken leg? I already told you I’m Shanren! How could you ask such a foolish question?”

Jianchou had already stepped onto the slope, which proved rather steep.

She had to climb carefully to avoid falling, leaving her in no mood to deal with Fudao Shanren. Gritting her teeth, she continued upward.

Unlike her, Fudao Shanren walked as though on level ground.

As he followed beside her, poking at weeds with his broken bamboo staff, he continued complaining loudly.

“Do you know how much effort it took to save you? Cultivators’ spiritual power doesn’t just fall from the sky! I’ve saved so many people, and someone as ungrateful as you is only the three hundred and sixty-seventh I’ve ever met!”

At last Jianchou could not help stopping. Turning around seriously, she asked:

“Shanren, how many people have you saved?”

“Well… let me count…”

Fudao Shanren quickly calculated on his fingers before answering:

“Including you, three hundred and sixty-eight.”

“Oh. Then how many were ungrateful?”

“Three hundred and sixty-seven.”

His voice carried indescribable grief and indignation.

“Oh…”

Jianchou suddenly understood.

“So in the end, only one person wasn’t ungrateful? That’s wonderful.

“I’ll be the second.”

“Hm?”

Fudao Shanren looked at her in surprise.

The second person who wasn’t ungrateful.

Jianchou did not explain.

Her pale complexion had become flushed with a sickly redness from the strain of climbing. She merely forced a faint smile before turning around and continuing onward.

The weeds along the path were thick, occasionally slicing the skin on her hands as she pushed through them.

Her brows gradually furrowed.

Fudao Shanren walked beside her, carefully observing her.

For some reason, the usually noisy old man had fallen silent.

Jianchou did not notice.

She only thought that the slope did not seem very long…

With one final effort, she climbed to the top.

At once, the world before her opened wide.

Grass spread out like a green carpet. Dense trees stood in the distance, and a broad road wound through the forest toward the far-off mountains.

The sky was nearing dusk and gradually darkening. Thin curls of cooking smoke rose from the small village nestled among the hills.

Jianchou thought to herself:

She had climbed back from the underworld into the mortal realm.

Below the cliff, everything had seemed foreign. But now that she stood above it, she immediately recognized the nearby village as the place she once called home.

And with that realization, a flood of unanswered questions surged into her heart.

Was Xie Buchen still there?

After burying her, where had he gone?

Did the villagers know she had died?

And what about the house?

Was it still the same as before?


Chapter 004 — The One Returning at Night

From the book I Shall Not Become an Immortal

“Are you really going back?”

Ever since they started climbing the slope, the old man known as Fudao Shanren had barely spoken. But seeing the lingering sorrow on Jianchou’s face, he could not help asking.

Before Jianchou could answer, he added:

“You’ve already been buried once. Your villagers probably all think you’re dead by now. If you suddenly return, you’ll scare a whole crowd half to death. Coming back from the dead is terrifying to ordinary people. Be careful they don’t tie you to a post and burn you alive!”

That was not impossible.

Jianchou glanced back at him.

“Shanren, are you worried I’ll be burned to death?”

“Nonsense! You women always flatter yourselves!” Fudao Shanren snorted. “I’m only worried that all the merit I worked so hard to accumulate will go to waste. If you get burned to death, wouldn’t that mean I saved you for nothing?”

“So you are worried I’ll be burned to death.”

Jianchou could not help smiling.

Fudao Shanren’s eyes widened; he nearly choked again.

“I can’t be bothered arguing with you mortals! And you still claimed you wouldn’t repay kindness with ingratitude? Are you bullying me because I haven’t been in this place for a few hundred years?”

“A few hundred years?” Jianchou was startled.

Fudao Shanren waved a hand as though shooing flies away.

“Adults’ matters. Little girls shouldn’t pry.”

The phrase “a few hundred years” carried strange implications.

Though curious, Jianchou did not press further.

Fudao Shanren might have a loose tongue, be filthy, and exude an indescribably sleazy air, yet somehow he still seemed kindhearted.

Jianchou did not dislike him.

She resumed walking toward the road outside.

Fudao Shanren started muttering again:

“Sigh, you just won’t listen. What good can possibly come from going back? What if someone else is there? What if your house is gone? What if your husband is still there? And what if you see him embracing another woman?”

“… ”

Jianchou’s footsteps abruptly halted.

After a moment of silence, she lifted her eyes to him.

“If that happens, I’ll kill him.”

Kill him?

Such a clean, decisive sentence!

Fudao Shanren truly had not expected those words to come from Jianchou’s mouth.

She was merely a delicate, frail-looking woman. How could she compare to a grown man?

And yet…

Why did it sound so satisfying?

By then, Jianchou had already started walking again.

Watching her thin back, Fudao Shanren’s eyes gradually brightened. The thought that had been circling in his mind earlier began surfacing again.

In truth, Fudao Shanren valued fate and affinity greatly.

Meeting Jianchou—was that not a kind of fate?

He stood there pondering for a long while. By the time he came back to himself, Jianchou was already far ahead.

“Where’d she go?”

Startled, he looked around and saw she had somehow gotten quite far away.

“Why are you walking so fast? You just came back to life, and now you’re already running around—you’re not afraid of dying again? You’re really going to anger this mountain hermit to death! Hey, wait for me!”

Though shouting the whole way, his pace never quickened. He merely took one step—and the next instant, he was already beside Jianchou.

“Honestly, no consideration for the elderly at all!”

Jianchou had already witnessed some of Fudao Shanren’s strange abilities, but seeing him suddenly appear at her side in a single step still made her eyes widen.

Fudao Shanren smugly raised his brows.

“See that? This is called Shrinking the Earth to an Inch!”

It sounded like the name of a spell.

Was this the immortality Xie Buchen had pursued?

Suppressing her astonishment—or perhaps awe—Jianchou finally said:

“It seems very impressive.”

“Of course!” Fudao Shanren immediately puffed up with pride.

Jianchou smiled faintly and said nothing more, continuing onward.

Ahead, the outline of the village had become clear.

They stood upon the mountain, overlooking the valley below.

The evening twilight deepened, slowly enveloping the land.

One by one, lights flickered on throughout the small village, glowing through the windows of each household. If one looked carefully, shadows of people could be seen moving behind them. Faint traces of cooking smoke drifted through the wind.

Fudao Shanren’s nose twitched as he sniffed hard.

“Oh! Someone’s roasting suckling pig! And wild chicken too! Smells amazing, amazing!”

The closer one was to home, the more timid one became.

Yet the moment Jianchou stood above the village and saw it, a violent surge of emotion welled up within her chest.

The place where the sword had pierced her seemed to ache faintly once more.

She almost could not wait to return and see what had become of that place.

They descended the mountain path.

Though the village looked near, by the time Jianchou reached the entrance, the night was already deep and the slanted moon hung high overhead.

Fudao Shanren followed easily at her side as always, glancing around everywhere as though searching for food.

Her home was at the eastern end of the village. They would have to pass nearly through the entire settlement to reach it.

Beside the village roads—some narrow, some wide—lay stacks of firewood for cooking. At the center of the village stood a huge ancient tree. In summer, when its foliage grew dense, one could look up and see countless red ribbons of wishes hanging from its branches. The farther east they went, the fewer the homes became, until only scattered lights remained in the darkness.

Step by step, Jianchou walked onward.

Though her footsteps were light, they still disturbed the dogs kept by some households.

“Woof! Woof!”

A bark rang out through the night.

Then came a clatter of movement and someone calling from inside:

“Who’s there?”

Jianchou stopped and turned her head.

With a creak, the wooden gate of a nearby house opened. A round-faced peasant woman poked her head out and, upon seeing Jianchou walking down the road, looked surprised.

“Isn’t that Madam Xie? Why have you come back? Didn’t Scholar Xie take you to the city to enjoy a good life the other day?”

To the city?

The other day?

Jianchou froze, then immediately understood.

So the villagers had no idea she had died once already. Xie Buchen must have told them he had taken her into the city.

A strange smile crossed her lips.

“Thank you for your concern, Sister Zhang. We left some things behind, so I came back to fetch them.”

“So that’s how it is.”

Sister Zhang did not suspect anything. Everyone knew the young couple was deeply devoted to one another, and Scholar Xie was destined to become an official someday.

She smiled warmly and honestly.

“Even after moving to the city, make sure to come back often. And if you get any good food, don’t forget about us!”

“Of course.”

Jianchou answered softly, but she noticed that Sister Zhang’s gaze remained fixed entirely on her, as though she could not see Fudao Shanren standing beside her at all.

Jianchou found it strange.

Fudao Shanren, meanwhile, merely lifted his brows smugly without speaking.

Completely oblivious to anything unusual, Sister Zhang simply urged her:

“Well then, hurry and get your things. It’s so late at night—I almost thought something had happened. Don’t forget to come back often!”

“All right.”

Jianchou answered once again.

Only then did Sister Zhang withdraw back inside and shut the door.

The dog stopped barking, and silence returned to the night.

Jianchou stood there for a long time before continuing onward.

Ahead was her home.

A small courtyard house, pitch black, without a single light.

Fudao Shanren tapped the ground with his bamboo staff, though it made no sound at all.

“Looks like everyone thinks you’re still alive. This is your house, right?”

Jianchou nodded and stopped walking.

Before her stood a humble farmhouse courtyard enclosed by a wooden fence. A gate opened southward in the center, pieced together from rough planks and topped with thatch to keep out the rain.

And now, hanging upon the gate, was a brass lock.

The gate was locked.

Countless memories surged through Jianchou’s mind once more.

She stepped forward, stood before the gate, rose onto her toes, and reached inside the doorframe.

Her fingers touched something cold.

Jianchou pulled it out and spread her palm open.

As expected—it was a key.

Even after lying and leaving, Xie Buchen had still hidden the key in the same place as always…

Jianchou blinked, suddenly overwhelmed by grief so fierce she nearly burst into tears.

The moment she saw the locked gate, she already knew Xie Buchen was gone.

Yet finding the key confirmed that the affection they once shared had never been false.

“In this life, I have wronged you. If there is reincarnation through the Six Paths and Three Realms, then in the next life, you may come claim my life.”

Jianchou truly did want to claim his life.

Thinking this, she forced the tears back into her eyes, unlocked the gate, and pushed it open.

Creeeak—

A thin, lingering sound.

The gate opened.

The courtyard was clean and tidy, almost free of weeds. By the western wall stood a fenced enclosure. Of the flock of large white geese they once kept, only one remained, curled asleep in the corner. Directly ahead stood three rooms. Their doors were unlocked, merely pulled shut. Beside the door hinge still stood the green oil-paper umbrella Xie Buchen had carried home that day.

Jianchou stepped inside.

Fudao Shanren craned his neck and peered around behind her. Seeing the bleak simplicity of the place, he could not help clicking his tongue.

“Your house is really shabby. What’s even the point of coming back? Anyway, since I already saved your life… hey, I say, why not just become my disciple while you’re at it? This mountain hermit can take you across the ends of the earth. Maybe someday you’ll even meet him again somewhere among the Six Paths and Nineteen Continents. How about it? As long as you’re willing to—”

His endless rambling suddenly stopped.

As he passed the goose enclosure, he spotted the lone white goose sleeping in the corner.

His eyes instantly lit up.

What a fine goose!

Glossy feathers, plump and fat—if plucked and tossed into a pot, it would make exactly one perfect meal!

Fudao Shanren swallowed hard and walked over to the fence. Lifting one leg, he climbed right over.

At the same time, he called toward Jianchou:

“Well then! As long as you let this goose come away with me, I’ll even waive all your disciple fees!”

Jianchou continued walking toward the house, ignoring him completely.

Fudao Shanren did not mind. At that moment, the only thing in his eyes was the goose.

He crouched beside it and gently stroked its head like one would pet a good child.

“What a fat goose…”

Meanwhile, Jianchou had already reached the doorway.

She paid no attention to what Fudao Shanren was doing behind her.

Pushing open the door, she found only darkness inside.

Following the paths her memory knew, she found the tinderbox on the windowsill. With a soft breath, a tiny flame sprang to life, illuminating the familiar, simple furnishings within.

Three stools. One square table. An unlit oil lamp atop it. Folded clothes. Half-finished sewing…

Jianchou suddenly felt as though her legs were filled with lead.

She walked to the table, lit the oil lamp with the tinderbox, then extinguished the tinderbox itself.

A tiny flame rose, casting shifting shadows across Jianchou’s face beneath the dim yellow glow.

She sat upon the stool, staring at the silent room.

The wall opposite was now empty.

The sword was gone.

And Jianchou’s heart felt empty as well.

She reached out and touched the clothes on the table. Every piece belonged to Xie Buchen. The stitching on each garment was extraordinarily neat. Leaning inside the sewing basket was a pair of scissors normally used for cutting scraps of cloth.

Jianchou reached out to pick them up.

Yet when she grasped the scissors and moved them aside, a tiny rattle drum appeared beneath the basket. Beside it lay a red cord threaded through a small silver lock engraved with the character “Xie.”

At that instant, Jianchou’s hand trembled violently.

The rattle drum was something she had bought from a peddler after learning she was pregnant.

The silver lock had belonged to Xie Buchen as a child. He had once said that when they had a child of their own, he would pass the little silver lock down to them. That day, Jianchou had threaded it with a red cord.

And now, seeing these things again…

The scissors wrapped with red cloth slipped from her hand back into the sewing basket.

For a moment, her heart felt as though it were being twisted apart.

Slowly withdrawing her hand, Jianchou instinctively touched her still-flat abdomen.

Then she suddenly turned toward the pitch-black courtyard outside and shouted:

“Shanren! Shanren!”

Outside in the courtyard, Fudao Shanren had already wrapped both arms around the white goose’s neck.

The goose instantly sensed danger and began honking desperately while flapping its plump wings with all its might. Feathers flew everywhere; muddy water splashed wildly, covering Fudao Shanren in filth.

This stupid goose actually dared resist!

Fudao Shanren’s greed flared. Swallowing hard, he prepared to commit some unspeakable act upon the goose when Jianchou’s shout from inside startled him badly.

He jerked upright, instantly pulling back his hands and raising them high.

“I wasn’t stealing the goose!”

Jianchou had already risen to her feet, stumbling unsteadily. Behind her, the lone oil lamp cast only faint light, leaving her figure hidden in darkness.

Fudao Shanren could not see her expression clearly.

“Shanren… I… I was actually pregnant. Could I ask you… to take my pulse?”